April Fail
by Alix Cohen
Summary: France is planning the best April Fool's Day ever...but gets kidnapped before he can do anything. Can Hungary and the rest of the EU rescue him? Should they? Rated for France.


France ran a hand through his hair and laughed softly. It had taken two full days and a bottle of Merlot, but he finally had the best April Fool's prank ever. He'd made the crucial phone call that afternoon, posted on all the Nations' online news sites, and tomorrow he'd start wreaking havoc. Grinning, he reached for his cat ears. Tomorrow would be a good day. First, he'd visit—

One of the shadows in the corner of the bedroom moved. A hand covered France's mouth, and the lights went out.

* * *

FEAR STRIKES EUROPE, read the headline of every website the Nations visited. Stories all over predicted a French rampage. Nations armed themselves in preparation (except for those who enjoyed France's attentions). It occurred to Hungary to wonder whether the posts themselves were the April Fool's joke. Austria disagreed: "France has a one-track mind; he wouldn't deny himself the opportunity." Thus April first began.

And continued, with no sign of France, clothed or not, cat ears or no cat ears.

Around noon, Italy began to worry. "Brother France hasn't come to visit us yet like he promised. D'you think something bad has happened to him?"

"I'm not complaining," said Germany, who felt safer without France around.

Two o'clock had come and gone, and Spain was pacing now. The expected attack hadn't come, and he was starting to want France to show up, strip him, and get it over with. Then something smacked into his window.

Spain rushed outside and found a little white bird lying dazed on the ground, clutching a folded piece of paper in its claws. He recognized the bird as one of France's, but as he unfolded the note, Spain realized that something was wrong. The note was written in a spiky hand quite unlike France's, and it was signed "The Awesome Guy."

That was all Spain needed to see. He scooped up the bird, rushed inside, tossed both bird and note onto the table, and called Belgium.

"Aló, this is Spain. I think Prussia has kidnapped France."

* * *

By four-thirty most of Europe had gathered in Brussels for an emergency meeting. Spain showed everyone the note, which read:

I have taken France for my personal entertainment.

Where he is now, he will not be harmed.

The Awesome Guy.

Then the argument began. Yes, it was Prussia, but why did he take France? You know why (nudge). Why should we bother saving him, you know what he was going to do to us! Yeah, but what's Prussia going to do to _him_? Who cares?

Finally Germany realized that Belgium, the host, wasn't talking, and asked for her opinion. "Well…" Belgium began. "I…and Hungary believe…that we should go rescue him."

"What?" Britain jumped up. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. Rescue the bastard? Why do we need him back?"

Belgium glanced desperately at Hungary, who took the floor. "He keeps life interesting," she replied. "Don't deny it, boys. C'mon. Raise your hand if you have never slept with him." Finland, Sweden, and Switzerland raised their hands. On the other side of the room, so did Britain and Austria.

"Liars," Hungary said to that side. To the group she continued, "Whether you like it or not, France is an important part of our lives, and we can't just let him leave us. We have to get him back."

"Wait a minute," Britain interrupted. "Why are _you_ in charge of this? What do _you_ need him for?"

Hungary grinned, pulling a frying pan from nowhere. "Target practice."

* * *

Another half-hour of bickering produced the group that would go to Prussia's house to rescue France. Spain and Hungary were the core of it. Britain volunteered so he could laugh at France. Italy went, to make sure his Dear Brother was all right; Germany went to keep an eye on Italy. Austria said "I'm going," and nobody questioned him. And as the rescue team left Brussels, America showed up and told Hungary he was coming along. "Fine," said Hungary. "Just hang back and _keep quiet_."

Italy and America chatted incessantly on the way, with occasional requests from Britain that they shut up; Spain was glumly silent. Hungary was almost glad when they reached the dilapidated mansion on Germany's northeastern land.

She strode up the porch and knocked on the front door. Prussia opened it almost immediately, shirtless (inhumanly pale), smirking, holding a glass of wine. Hungary swallowed her disgust. "What have you done with France?" she asked him calmly.

"France?" Prussia echoed, shrugging.

"Don't play dumb. You're drinking wine, and you're expecting us; he has to be here. Now let him go."

Prussia bowed slightly. "Very clever, Hungary. Yes, I have him, but why would I give him away? He's really too much fun."

Hungary heard shouting behind her. Prussia's grin widened. Hungary turned around in time to see France, wearing cat ears and nothing else, push America (also naked) to the ground and corner Austria in a flowerbed.

"April fool," Prussia said behind Hungary. Then she lost her temper. She turned back and knocked him senseless with her frying pan.

* * *

France took his time with Austria, gloating silently. It had been so easy: he'd had Prussia pretend to kidnap him and write the letter, sent it to Spain to get everyone in one place, then sneak out the back and attack them from behind. (It was a shame Prussia didn't grow roses.) He stripped Britain first, laughing as the blood drained from his face. Italy next, taking care to keep out of Germany's reach, then Spain, then America—what a treat, to have him here!—and finally, the most delectable of his targets.

France was so absorbed in congratulating himself, and in unbuttoning Austria's shirt, that a sharp pain at the back of his head caught him by surprise. He turned around, dazed, and met Hungary's blazing eyes.

"Don't do that," she said, and hit him again.


End file.
